


Still, Still, Still

by etacarina



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cute, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4715486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etacarina/pseuds/etacarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin finds calm and comfort in Bilbo's presence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still, Still, Still

Thorin feels the anger, the frustration, rolling over him in hot waves as he makes his way back to his chambers. It wasn’t _fair_ , what the other dwarves, the Men, the Elves said—what they _insinuated_ , more like—about him, it wasn’t _true_ , not anymore. Not anymore. He is better now. He knows this. He clings to what he knows is the truth of these words as he feels the cool metal of his doorknob and hears the door slam shut behind him with a loud whoosh. He sighs and runs his hands down over his face, but he can’t dispel the tension. Can’t help the nagging voice in the back of his mind saying _but maybe they_ are _right_. He needs—

“Thorin.” Bilbo’s calm, familiar voice yanks him back from his reverie. He needs _Bilbo_.

“Thorin.” Bilbo says again, softer, quieter, closer. And then Thorin feels small, soft hands clutching his, bringing them gently down from his face to his sides. He feels those same hands reach up again, cradling Thorin’s face, tilting it up. And as Thorin first glances up to meet Bilbo’s gaze, so full of love and concern for him (a thought that continues to awe him), he feels the breath he didn’t realize he was holding in leave his lungs in a rush, feels the stress already begin to leave his head, his shoulders, his back, everywhere. And so he leans down and folds Bilbo into his arms, holding him for long moments he doesn’t bother to count.

“You are a most welcome sight, _ghivashel_.” Thorin breathes, close to Bilbo’s ear. He buries his face in Bilbo’s soft curls, and surely, and surely nothing can be so bad as long as they hold each other like this. He feels Bilbo’s arms tighten around his neck and the lightest of kisses pressed to his cheek.

“Thorin, what happened today?” Bilbo murmurs, pulling back to look at his husband, running his hands comfortingly down the dwarf’s shoulders and arms.

Thorin shakes his head, staring firmly at the ground. “It’s nothing new, rumors I am used to hearing by now. Nevertheless, it is as infuriating as ever it was.” He grits his teeth, clamping down on the rising fury. He expects Bilbo to press on, expects to have to give more of an answer, but for a few seconds the hobbit only stands in silence. Then,

“Come on then, let’s get you more comfortable.”

And then Bilbo reaches up and lifts the dwarf king’s heavy crown off his brow, setting it carefully on a table beside the fireplace. When he returns, he leans up to press one soft, short kiss to Thorin’s lips, and Thorin feels his shoulders sag with relief. Bilbo is here, his hobbit is with him, now, and the rest of the world can wait, can disappear for all he cares.

Bilbo only smiles as he pulls away. “Better?” He murmurs. Thorin nods, looking into the warm hazel of his eyes, hoping Bilbo can sense how incredibly grateful he is. And then his husband presses up again, fingers carding slowly through Thorin’s hair where the crown had been moments before and leans in for another kiss. Bilbo’s lips are so dry and soft and warm, like a balm on Thorin’s, and Thorin wraps his arms around Bilbo’s waist then, pulling him closer, sighing. The hobbit’s hands leave his hair, reaching down instead to unclasp the great furred mantle Thorin wears, letting it drop to the ground. The mantle and the crown—they are so _heavy_ , like all of his worries and troubles are really lying upon him, and Thorin feels nearly as light as a feather the moment it falls off his shoulders. His hands tighten at Bilbo’s back, and he opens his mouth to the kiss, unwinding and relaxing with every passing second.

“Thank you, _âzyungâl_ ,” Thorin mumbles softly against Bilbo’s lips.

Bilbo responds first with a quiet, “Mm,” as his hands move from Thorin’s shoulders, and then, “I haven’t finished yet, Thorin Oakenshield”, as he begins undoing the wide, embroidered belt around Thorin’s middle. And after that falls to the floor, Bilbo tugs the deep blue tunic underneath down his arms, and the mail underneath that goes over his head and with every layer Bilbo presses another kiss to Thorin’s mouth and the king feels more and more like a person again. Soon Thorin is only in his boots, his pants, and his undershirt of soft cotton with Bilbo in his arms, kissing all his worries away, one by one.

“There now,” Bilbo whispers, pulling away, eyes darting across Thorin’s face as he speaks again.

“You don’t have to be a king while you’re here. Just…”, Bilbo shakes his head almost imperceptibly, “Just Thorin. That’s how I like you best, anyway.” he grins at his own words, and Thorin can’t help but to sweep him up for one more kiss, more passionate than the last, his hands at Bilbo’s cheeks and drawing down along his neck, his arms, intertwining their hands, an unspoken _thank you, thank you for this, thank you for understanding every time_. _Thank you for loving me as I love you._ And then he smiles against Bilbo’s lips before he can stop himself and draws back as Bilbo exhales in a huff.

“Well,” Bilbo chuckles warmly, “You seem better already.”

Thorin nods and moves to rest his forehead against Bilbo’s, words far too insufficient right now. In turn, Bilbo reaches for Thorin’s hand and tugs.

“Why don’t we read for a while, hmm? I got a new book of poetry the other day. I think you’ll like it.”

And Thorin just lets himself be led, lets himself sink comfortably into the couch next to Bilbo’s armchair, lets himself close his eyes, kick off his boots and warm his feet by the crackling fire, just listening to the sound of Bilbo’s voice for what could be hours, days, years. And eventually night sneaks up, the stars come out and the fire dwindles to glowing embers, so they crawl into bed together, all worries of _rumors_ and _gossip_ lost for now to the sounds of each other’s breathing and the warmth of each other’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first-ever work of fanfiction (Bagginshield has kind of taken up my life as of late), so please, PLEASE leave concrit if you have the time, and thank you for reading! :)


End file.
